


for the record

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Love Confessions, Making Up, Male-Female Friendship, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 11:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13680534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Daisy brings Coulson a Valentine's Day treat. Sort of.





	for the record

She knocks.

She knocks even though she knows he's a private person.

She knocks because their current accommodations don't lend themselves to privacy.

She knocks because she has an excuse.

"I brought you something," she says, just loud enough.

She knocks again because she knows that he's in there.

She knocks because it feels good.

The door swings open, and Coulson is standing in front of her, dressed for bed, but still wearing the same clothes like they all are.

Her hand is still raised, as if she was about to knock again, because, she was.

He made it easier than she expected, or, maybe he is about to make it much harder. He looks tired, but not sleepy.

"Simmons made these," she says, lowering her hand and holding out the small plate to him.

"I know," he tells her with a sigh. "Did you eat yours?"

She bites on her lower lip and glances down the hallway before answering.

"Yes," she whispers, leaning closer. "And you should have to suffer with the rest of us."

He almost looks amused as he tries to take the plate from her, then perturbed when she doesn't let go of it.

"I'm also supposed to check in on you," she admits with an apologetic shrug.

"I thought you were mad at me?" he says, cocking his head a little.

"I am."

He holds her steady gaze for a moment, nods, and then lets go of the plate, and opens his door wider and steps out of the way.

It's probably the closest thing she'll get to an invitation at this point, so she moves inside the rented room and hears him close the door shut behind her.

"I see you got the deluxe suite," she says, cataloguing the details of the room. The queen sized bed and the radiant lights of the pool behind the drawn curtains.

She heard the music coming from it from inside the room she's sharing with May, and when she peeks through to the outside, she can see that the weekend party crowd has taken over.

"The rest of us just have five channels and pay-per-view. Have to admit, I'm jealous."

Then he takes the plate out of her hands and looks at the square object on it.

"I know it looks like a dessert, but, what is it, really?"

"A rice krispies treat," she lies, letting go of the curtains and turning back towards him.

"Were any marshmallows involved in the making of this?" he tells her, lifting it, like he might actually eat it.

"Nope," she shakes her head. "Taste it for yourself."

He does, and then chuckles quietly, and puts it back down on the plate, continues to chew on it.

"Which is why I risked so much to get you this," she says, pulling the chocolate bar out of her jacket pocket and handing it to him. "I wasn't spotted, I promise. Take it."

"I haven’t thought about food since we came back," he says, turning it over in his hands.

"Kind of puts things in perspective."

That makes him pause for a moment, smiling down at her gift, and then he looks back up at her with such an unbearable amount of gratitude that she can't help herself.

"Oh, Happy Valentine's Day. I'm still mad at you, though. For the record."

"Share?" he asks, opening up the chocolate and breaking off a square of it, holding it out to her.

"Have you ever been mad at someone you like so much you hate yourself for it? It really sucks."

"Just a few days ago," he tells her, after she takes the chocolate, moving back to the window to peek out at the pool.

She watches him eating it, then she joins him, and they both eat and watch people splash around and dance drunkenly at the edge of the pool.

The music is less energetic than before, slowing to more of a grind and people are starting to pair off.  
  
"Okay, so, 'I have a law degree' dude is definitely interested," she observes, watching a guy repeatedly splash another at the end of the water closest to them.

"No way, he's sales," Coulson replies in his profiler voice. "And not very good at it, judging by that other guy's expression. Look at how much he works out."

"He's in law school," she tells him. "And he'll drop out later when he doesn't pass the bar exam." Coulson crinkles up the last of the chocolate wrapper and walks away to find a place to toss it.

"Guys that go to law school don't hang out in places like this," she hears him say from the bathroom. "Their parents pay for it."

"Hey, I'm paying for us to stay here," she reminds him, seeing as she's the only one with funds and uncompromised drop locations these days. "His t-shirt is from a law school, Phil."

He comes to stand beside her, looking out the window again. "I guess you were staring harder than I was. Must be the abs."

She uses an elbow gently against his stomach for that cheap shot. "You were the one who commented on how much he works out."

"It wasn't exactly meant as a compliment," he tells her with a huff, then narrows his eyes and she follows his expression to see the splashing turned makeout session happening below.

"Says the former Director who still works out like he's a field agent," she mutters.

"You're just full of compliments tonight," he answers, standing back a bit. "You're still mad at me, right?"

"Uh huh." She's watching the show below and ignoring him baiting her. "Not a great kisser, though."

"Yeah," he agrees, leaning in to look again. "Too much tongue. Kids these days."

That almost makes her laugh, and he even looks a little sad that she managed to hold it in.

"This was a great makeout song, though," he says, tilting his head to listen, then walking back towards the bathroom. She's pretty sure she hears saxophone in there somewhere and he must have picked up the melody.

"So you've made out to this before?" she asks, because she can't resist the opportunity to know more about his past. "But, those days are behind you, right?" she teases.

There's enough silence that she looks and sees him caught up in other thoughts, which isn't what she intended. All of the dying stuff, she's not going to believe it any more than he believes she can tear the earth apart.

It's just scary and awful and they were talking about kissing moments before, and now she's messed it up.

"I mean, it is Valentine's Day," she tries to explain. "You're supposed to be kissed by someone you love and-"

"Even if they're still angry at you?" he asks, leaning against the open bathroom door.

She opens her mouth to reply and searches his expression, to see what exactly he thinks she's supposed to say to that, before she settles on something.

"Angry kissing is a thing."

That actually makes him laugh, and he goes back to what he was doing, before, which is getting ready to brush his teeth.

She walks to him and stares at him in the mirror, brushing away with his eyebrows raised at her defiantly and she crosses her arms and waits until he stops.

"I don't like angry kissing," he says through a mouthful of toothpaste, then spits into the sink, takes the plastic cup and fills it.

"Then what kind of kissing do you like?" she asks him, and gets a good look at him bent over the sink.

The strangeness of this moment. Like they talk this way all the time. Like she lets herself look at him like this. That she admitted how she feels about him without her world falling apart.

His eyes are locked onto hers in the mirror, and he wipes his hand off on the towel and turns around to face her in the small space.

"The kiss and make up kind."

 

 


End file.
